Now Hear This: Super Art Fight, DIY Festival, Pizza Party After Dark, more

Sun, Oct. 18

A double dose of hyper-gory surreal Italian zombie horror from Pizza Party, the screen-printing company run by Daniel Petruccelli and Jimmy Giegerich, who pair their love of genre filmmaking with scrappy, creative cartooning (they do some pretty sick metal show fliers too). This installment of the pizza party features two movies from Lucio Fulci, simultaneously one of Italian horror's most cerebal and most trashy directors. He's a fiend for complicated, violent, and absurd set pieces (just to name two: in "Zombie," a zombie fights a shark; in "The Beyond," spiders patiently devour a man's eyeballs) but he also has a way with atmosphere and a willingness to abandon all narrative logic if it makes things scarier or more surreal. He's indebted to George Romero for sure, but he also looks back to the work of Lovecraft and Poe, in the druggy pacing of 1979's "Zombie,"about a slow-drip invasion of the undead, and "The Beyond," a dream-logic story about a haunted Louisiana mansion that contains a gateway to hell. There will be a Pizza Party-designed "The Beyond" shirt and a "Zombie" poster for purchase and also pizza. 7 p.m., The Windup Space, 12 W. North Ave., (410) 244-8855, thewindupspace.com, free. (Brandon Soderberg)

Sun, Oct. 18

A double dose of hyper-gory surreal Italian zombie horror from Pizza Party, the screen-printing company run by Daniel Petruccelli and Jimmy Giegerich, who pair their love of genre filmmaking with scrappy, creative cartooning (they do some pretty sick metal show fliers too). This installment of the pizza party features two movies from Lucio Fulci, simultaneously one of Italian horror's most cerebal and most trashy directors. He's a fiend for complicated, violent, and absurd set pieces (just to name two: in "Zombie," a zombie fights a shark; in "The Beyond," spiders patiently devour a man's eyeballs) but he also has a way with atmosphere and a willingness to abandon all narrative logic if it makes things scarier or more surreal. He's indebted to George Romero for sure, but he also looks back to the work of Lovecraft and Poe, in the druggy pacing of 1979's "Zombie,"about a slow-drip invasion of the undead, and "The Beyond," a dream-logic story about a haunted Louisiana mansion that contains a gateway to hell. There will be a Pizza Party-designed "The Beyond" shirt and a "Zombie" poster for purchase and also pizza. 7 p.m., The Windup Space, 12 W. North Ave., (410) 244-8855, thewindupspace.com, free. (Brandon Soderberg)

Baltimore, take notes. On a recent trip to Paris, we encountered a luchador bar, which is exactly what it sounds like: a bar with a luchador wrestling ring in the basement, where you can watch professional fighters wrestle or pay a small fee to slip on a cushioned sumo-wrestler costume (it's a weird cultural mix, especially because it's all Parisians) and battle a friend after several shots of tequila, while projections of professional luchador fights play in the background. If you've ever seen a luchador fight, you understand that it is, in many ways, art: the colorful masks and singlets, the acrobatic choreography. Now, bar fights as we know them in Baltimore can range from hilarious to gross to terrifying, but they would all be better if they were facilitated by professionals (more or less) and were infused with some kind of artful element. It's no underground luchador fight, but the Ottobar will soon experience something of that nature, the "Super Art Fight." It's not a "fight" in the traditional sense, but it's styled like a wrestling match in which two competing artists create on-the-spot art, the subjects of which sometimes are drawn in combat with each other. This is the "Halloween Havok" edition, so you can bet there will be elaborate costumes. And, you know, with enough booze it could devolve into an actual bar fight, which dude artists are historically prone to anyway (see: Caravaggio). 9 p.m., Ottobar, 2549 N. Howard St., (410) 662-0069, theottobar.com, $15. (Maura Callahan)

Sat, Oct. 17

Baltimore, take notes. On a recent trip to Paris, we encountered a luchador bar, which is exactly what it sounds like: a bar with a luchador wrestling ring in the basement, where you can watch professional fighters wrestle or pay a small fee to slip on a cushioned sumo-wrestler costume (it's a weird cultural mix, especially because it's all Parisians) and battle a friend after several shots of tequila, while projections of professional luchador fights play in the background. If you've ever seen a luchador fight, you understand that it is, in many ways, art: the colorful masks and singlets, the acrobatic choreography. Now, bar fights as we know them in Baltimore can range from hilarious to gross to terrifying, but they would all be better if they were facilitated by professionals (more or less) and were infused with some kind of artful element. It's no underground luchador fight, but the Ottobar will soon experience something of that nature, the "Super Art Fight." It's not a "fight" in the traditional sense, but it's styled like a wrestling match in which two competing artists create on-the-spot art, the subjects of which sometimes are drawn in combat with each other. This is the "Halloween Havok" edition, so you can bet there will be elaborate costumes. And, you know, with enough booze it could devolve into an actual bar fight, which dude artists are historically prone to anyway (see: Caravaggio). 9 p.m., Ottobar, 2549 N. Howard St., (410) 662-0069, theottobar.com, $15. (Maura Callahan)